Random Access Memory
by Mystery Muse MMX
Summary: A catch-all collection of drabbles and dead-end ideas. May contain random pairings and crack.
1. Parts

Footsteps echoed in the abandoned parking garage. Giggles and loud voices carried surprisingly far, bouncing down the ghost-hollow levels still lit by flickering storm lights.

"C'mon, c'mon! I wanna see. Hurry up!"

"I'm coming, shut up!"

"I'll turn it on!"

Lurking at the inner back corner of level 11F, just one down from the roof and next to the dead elevator was a makeshift cocoon of torn metal plates, fragments of wood board, and faded striped blankets, with christmas lights strung around the whole mess.

The loud footsteps grew closer, and the eldest of three grimy-looking boys scurried away from the staircase, hands cupped around something precious, and pushed through the blanket that acted as a 'door' to the cocoon. He hit a badly-wired switch inside, and a yellow glow began to creep out from between the boards and beams; the string of christmas lights began to tinkle.

He looked around the interior of their haven with satisfaction- there were some wobbly shelves on which strange objects rested: an abandoned perfume bottle, dirty on one side but made of shiny cut crystal, a collection of smooth glass fragments and agates, a thick stack of faded, battered trading cards, a white bowl full of charred spent brass bullet casings, each as long as a boy's finger. On the floor were pillows and blankets, and another round of christmas lights formed a strange circular halo on the ceiling.

In short order, the others piled in- two other boys, one thin and black-eyed with a crafty look, who'd scavenged the christmas lights and wired up their fortress. The other a slightly pudgy blonde. The shell casings were his donation to the group's treasures.

They grinned at each other and the first boy, the oldest with a shock of unkempt straw hair, gestured. "Okay, we're all here, I wanna see it, c'moooon!"

It was the dark boy who answered, with a grin. "Show me yours first. I'm not showing mine until you show yours."

"Ugh. Okay, fine... jerk." The sandy-haired boy reached to the shelf and felt around for a second, then drew out a four-inch spire of gold metal with a sharp point and a broken end, and held it out in his hands proudly. "Y'know what this is? This is a totally real piece of X. Right off his armor! They were fightin' on 5th avenue and a Maverick shot him, like, right in the head! And this piece came off and went flyin' down the street like 50 feet! I ran out and grabbed it real quick and then got outta there. It's verified and everything. I saw it!"

The other boys ooh'd softly and the dark-haired one plucked it up, held it to the light. "Think it's real gold? Kinda feels soft..."

"It's probably just ceratanium, or Titanium-X, like regular," piped up the pudgy kid with a knowing look. "I'm pretty sure that's part of the Force Armor's Head Parts."

"Eh, I dunno. Not gonna -sell- it anyway, -Bryan-. Give it," and the relic was snatched back by its owner. "There, now show yours, you been making a big stupid deal out of it all day..."

"Not yet," Bryan, the dark boy, smirked again, "If all you've got's that one little sliver, that's way lame and I'm totally not gonna share mine."

"You wanna get in the club or not?"

"Not if all you've got is one lame little sliver."

"Don't be a douche, Klyde. Just show it already!"

"Hmn. Fine, I guess... but you guys better not mess with it..." The dark-haired kid reached into his jacket and pulled out a beat-up looking velvet-lined jewelry box, then opened it up and showed it around. Inside the box nestled a gleaming cabochon of green glass that had been cleaned carefully, but contained one crack on its right side from the base of the jewel up toward its apex. "You guys know what -this- is, right?"

Bryan, the large kid, gasped. "Is that one of -Zero's-...?"

Klyde nodded. "Right off his body. I got it from a friend who traded some stuff for it and then I traded off him. I guess his dad works in the cleanup company that the Hunters use to go pick up the messes after the Hunters have their fights and he got this from him. Zero blew himself up this one time, and this went flyin' and got found while they were cleanin' up."

"...Liar. That is NOT! You're so full of crap. That's a streetlight lens or something, or some other robot's junk... no way Zero'd lose a part like -that-!"

"You don't believe me?" Klyde snapped the box shut, irritated. "Fine. Then I guess I'm outta here. Maybe there's some -other- club that wants a genuine Zero part, huh?"

There was a heavy footstep outside, like something hard landing in the middle of the level. The ground shook, and the kids swayed in place, looking at each other as the lights above flickered.

The door-blanket nudged aside, and a strange head peeked inside. The head was bald, with an oddly planed chin split down the middle, and a dark orange jewel set in its forehead above two scarred eyes...

Sigma regarded the children and smiled pleasantly. "Indeed, I can think of another club that might like that part..."


	2. Pararoid

Winding through the trash and debris in the Robot Junkyard, X turned a corner and grimaced. The sensor in his Head Parts picked up a veritable nest of Pararoids- the insectile mechaniloids originally designed for crop fertilization and now coopted by the Mavericks as defensive drones.

Pulling back behind the corner and pressing his back to the wall, X raised his buster close to his chest and began to charge, waiting until his interior meters pegged. He quickly moved out around the corner then and released his shot, the third-level blast spiraling down the hall and shattering the hovering, hopping menaces, leaving the hall clear.

X moved forward warily, cycling through another charge-build, when a slight weight dropped on his head from the ceiling and six 'tick-ticks' sounded around the crown of his head as the object folded its legs around his helmet; there was a dull thump at the back of his neck as something round and blunt nudged against it.

He realized immediately- it was another Pararoid, a V-1; that kind could...

And then he didn't care.

The worry, anxiety and fear gnawing at his wiring simply melted away as a rush of white heat poured down through his head, through his neck and spine; like he was revving up to 15,000 RPM and climbing. A few more Pararoids dropped from the ceiling and rage flared through X like a solar flare- vicious and expansive.

"I'm better than you! I'm better than all of you! Get out of my way!"

He charged forward, all sense of caution forgotten, reckless, firing wildly.

The Pararoid was in control, but X just didn't care; he felt good- better, he felt invincible! He noticed, without real understanding, that he was sliding back and forth in the same hallway, that the Pararoid was steering him away from the ladder leading down to the next part of the building, that it kept just running him back and forth along the same hall.

He didn't care.

The Pararoid had tapped into something deep inside, a hidden rage that was now being pulled forcibly to the surface. X was screaming as he dashed back and forth, firing blindly.

"I hate this! I hate this! I hate you for doing this to me! GIVE ZERO BACK TO ME OR I'LL KILL EVERYTHING HERE!"

His rage swelled beyond reason, X inadventently triggered the Giga Crush, causing a blinding hail of falling fire to obliterate everything around him - including the Pararoid latched onto his helmet. Shuddering, he dashed back to the end of the hall and climbed down the ladder he found there... then stopped at the floor below and paused to try and get himself back under control. His hands were shaking, and his core was too fast; he was sick with anger and grief, and the words he'd shrieked seemed to echo back at him from above.

He leaned back against the wall, breathing hard, eyes closing.

_Zero... I'm doing all this to get you back..._

I...

I think I... might need you more than I thought...

Terrifying emotions raced through his chest, and it took him another two minutes to calm down enough to take in another breath and return to the battle.


	3. First Kill

Red dipped his head as he entered the darkened room. The hot, sour-sweat smell of discharged plasma lingered in smoke wafting around the one dingy light fixture in the ceiling. The floor was wet with orange-red coolant, pooling darkly beneath the face-down body of the reptiloid Maverick, Slithering Scalamander.

Axl stood gazing down at the body, guns in his hands, arms loose at his sides.

Red smiled at his protege, moving to touch his shoulder "Your first kill. How does it feel?"

After a moment, the younger Reploid looked up at the Commander, and gave an exaggerated shrug. "Was I _supposed_ to feel anything?" He turned and left.


	4. Damage

_Smushed. Flattened. Spike up the heel. Tripped over a Met. Shot by a Met. Crushed by a steamroller. Jumped into a spike. Jumped onto a spike in six inches of water with 100% visibility. Drove into a spike wall. Dashed into a spike pit. Smashed into an overhang on a Ride Chaser. Chaser shot out from under; went flying headfirst into a concrete abutment. Leg blown off. Shot in head. Shot in foot. Shot self in foot. Tried to stick to broken ceiling; ceiling collapsed... _

Axl threw his head back and HOWLED, reading through Zero's damage log. "Oh MAN. Seriously? You hadda use a retry chip just because the -ceiling- killed you one time?"

"So much for my badass rep, huh?" Zero grinned, knocking back the remainder of the Life Bottle in a single big gulp. "The moral of the story is: Always make sure the ceiling's sealed before you stick to it."

Axl made a rude noise, swiped another life bottle from the package, and went on reading and giggling.


	5. Follicle

Zero endured in stoic silence through the battle. He endured the humid ride back to base in the overcramped Bee Blader with the rest of his unit and a busted up servomotor in his left knee from a lucky chance shot one of the Mavs had gotten off before he could get behind cover.

X shot him sympathetic looks, and chided him about not counting on his heavy armor to always get him out of scrapes like that, and did some hasty rewiring on it that left Zero minus a diamond knee-guard, but able to functionally walk again.

He limped into the debriefing and calmly dissected his own performance, the mission, the highs and lows. He limped carefully to Lifesaver, endured another lecture about counting on his heavy armor too much, lay still while it was being fixed, then finally (finally!) made it back to his recharger to start the four hour 'sleep' cycle, during which the remainder of the mission data would be offloaded.

Zero moved toward the recharger. He glanced around carefully. Then he took off his helmet, set it down carefully on a counter, looked around again. Then, he gave a loud "AAAAAAGH!!" of frustration, and scratchscratchscratched at his scalp. "Fucking WON'T STOP ITCHING!"

X blinked as he came into the room to find a helmetless, hairless Zero all but writhing in agony, naked scalp reddening. Initial alarm gave way to a small, understanding smile. He hurried over to his friend, gently pulled his hands away from his head, and looked Zero in the eyes. "It's only for a week, then it won't bother you so much."

"It drives me CRAZY!" Zero protested. "If I'd known it was gonna be this much trouble, I'd never have let them test this shit out on me!"

X nodded. After years of complaints from Zero himself and from Zero's maintenance team about it, and as Reploid synthetic DNA technology had advanced, the decision was finally made to scrap Zero's bulky, heavy artificial-fiber hair. The back of his head had been refitted with a top-of-the-line synthskin capable of producing very human-like hair; it would actually grow from his scalp organically, follicles, sebum and all.

X tutted and checked Zero's scalp again; there were tiny blond bristles all over, the new hairs just starting to break the surface of the skin. And, as he thought, Zero hadn't been 'nourishing' the hair with the nutrient-formula... "Zero, you're all dried out. No wonder it's uncomfortable."

Zero made a face. "It makes my fingers go numb."

X rolled his eyes, goodnaturedly, and steered Zero firmly toward a chair. "All right, I'll do it...AGAIN. Honestly, Zero!" A pout as he collected the bottle of oil.

Zero sat down, closed his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest.  
_Yeah, but it means I get a free head massage out of you once a day..._ He smiled to himself.


	6. Complicated

The cold metal rod in Ferham's hand lightly brushed the back of Zero's neck. Zero rumbled, but her training was too strong in him; he went to his knees with a low hiss, spread his knees apart, placed his hands on his armored ankles.

"I don't know why the fuck I let you do this," he growled at her, face already starting to grow hot. He tracked her movements, canines bared, eyes warily moving as she circled him.

She laughed and tapped the small of his back with the rod to make him thrust his chest forward, rolled the rod up his spine toward his shoulders, then pulled it around and forward, the end pushed under his chin, making him tip his head further and further back, until his body trembled savagely and the ends of his blond hair brushed the floor between his feet.

"You don't need to know why, Zero," she smiled, "It doesn't really **matter**." She drew out a length of inch-thick chain, pulling it down between Zero's teeth as a kind of cleave, then reached under his head to padlock the links tightly together, drawing the rest of the chain down toward a ring on the floor. "Don't complicate things unnecessarily."


	7. Paint

"So, what do you guys think?" Zero was almost shy in the asking.

Axl tilted his head. "Can I see 'em again before I say, Zero?" X nodded and looked closer as well.

"Sure." The blond fanned out the series of small colored plastic chips in his palm like a hand of playing cards, with a smooth motion of his thumb, and held it out to his friends to see. "I'm thinking a matte. Royal, for sure, except not blue. Obviously."

"Matte's so boring, though," Axl told him. "You should be glossy. Like, that one." He jabbed his finger at one of the chips, which was a bright, shimmering coral red with flecks of gold mica here and there.

X, on the other hand, tapped his chin with a thoughtful expression. "That's too close to what he already has."

"Why change what's workin?" Axl countered.

X laughed, and Zero nodded.

"Why do you want to change anyway?" X tapped at Zero's shoulder, peering at him.

"I just don't -feel- red lately? I dunno. And black's all right, but kinda done." Zero shrugged, and scowled mildly at nothing, at himself. "I think the Mavs are getting too used to a big red noise coming at them. Loses the shock value."

Snickering behind his hand, X reached out and selected another chip, carefully- one that was slightly hidden behind the others. "Well, if it's shock value you want..." He raised it so Axl and Zero could both see.

Axl flinched. "Ow. Ow, no... not that. C'mon, that's HIDEOUS!"

Zero burst into a huge grin. "It's perfect."

A few hours later, Zero moved calmly down the hall in his high-gloss lemon yellow armor with its red jewels and bronze accents, and enjoyed the shrieks of pain from aggrieved Hunters, whose sense of decency and taste were mortally wounded.


	8. Embrace

Very gently, very slowly, Lumine drifted closer to X and snuck his arms around the blue Reploid's waist. He held his breath, waiting to see how the Hunter would react; whether he would try to throw him off, or whether he would freeze in fear, or do something else- or nothing at all.

X did freeze, for a moment- and then he sighed, lowering his chin toward his chest. He was startled to hear the sound coming out of himself as Lumine's arms tightened - a tired kind of mewl.

Lumine started to drift away from the floor, frame glimmering blue, carrying X with him. The Earth sank soundless below the grey horizon of the moon, and night began to sweep across the lunar surface.

The pale light from Lumine's body crept slowly over X's frame as well, igniting a firefly glow inside X's armor, spreading from the center of his chest toward his abdomen, toward his shoulders and neck.

It was an infection, but utterly unlike anything X had experienced before- soft, gentle and cool, like being flooded with moonlight. Lumine's vast will was infusing him, easing him into a state of tranquil stillness beyond thought.

[I will show you something beautiful,] Lumine whispered into X's smoothed-over mind, running his fingers lightly over X's lips.

[... We'll go together.]

Below them, as they drifted, the moon began to quake.


	9. Perfection

_Let it go._

The Colony Virus pattered across Zero's mind like soft, sweet rain. Zero slid in and out of consciousness, his vision lunging back and forth through a dark tunnel; moments of light followed by a sharp wrenching backward into incohesion. The shuttle's remains were crumpled in around his midsection in a brutal embrace. Something metal and wicked dug deep into his side; all the way through, it felt like, some horrid bisectioning wound spreading every time he rattled in a breath of thin, lifeless air.

_Let it go._

A shape reached out, and touched his face in its hands, cold, warm, insubstantial, _perfect_. He blinked, straining to focus, thought it was X, because it smiled upon him with unending compassion and forgiveness. He blinked, the world contracted, expanded again into blurry haloes; no, Iris, Iris, god, Iris, the eyes... wet, pained, pleading eyes, a shivering light burning deep inside the center of the translucent chest.

_Iris, help me. HELP ME!_

The perfection reached into his chest, grabbed into his core, pulled and _twisted_. Like a pulled plug, Zero's heart drained away, swirling down down _down_, leaving a brittle, hollow glass shape of grief behind. Blood gorged into his throat, smothering him.

His soul shrieked and rattled.

_You weren't meant to feel. This suffering is artificial. And temporary. Let it go._

A horrible stillness swept through him.

His dying sight came into focus again, but from the wrong side. He was looking at himself now; his broken body, smashed into a hunk of half-frozen debris floating above the shoulder of the planet, a thin layer of frost already beginning to form over his lips and empty, cracked eyes. Blue splinters scattered across his cheeks like tears.

He felt nothing.

_They __**made**__ me feel._

He was perfect now.

_I don't need to feel._

He looked at the world, wreathed in blue light. It was all so clear.

_**I HATE YOU FOR MAKING ME FEEL**__._

Zero closed his eyes, at peace for the first time in his life.

**And his fury was beyond comprehension.**


	10. Blast Launcher

When Palette's signal bleeped in Axl's audials, he swung forward from his seat so hard he almost knocked it over. He dashed down the hall to the elevator and wedged himself into a packed car at the last moment before the doors closed. "Sorry, emergency!" he explained, to the grumbles of the others he shoved in front of.

Finally, it was ready! He fidgeted in place and tapped his foot against the floor and drummed his fingers against his elbows, eyes lifted to watch the elevator display count down. "C'mon, c'mon... hurry up!"

It was all he could do to endure the several stops and starts the elevator made; as the car began to empty out, he sidled toward the control panel and began to press the 'door close' button. This earned him some dirty looks, but he ignored them.

At long last, he reached the basement floor, where Palette's R&D staff had set up shop. He tumbled out of the elevator all smiles, and cleared his throat as he went through the sliding doors into the bright, airy space.

Palette greeted him, and he raised a hand in response, but his gaze swirled across the room and locked solidly on a chunky black and grey weapon lying on a counter. "Is that it?" He breathed, and made a beeline for it. Palette frumped and followed him, and she was saying -something- or other, but he wasn't really listening. All his attention was focused on the weapon.

It was beautiful. It was almost as tall as he was. Behind him, Pallette was saying something about its specs- some limitation. Slow rate of fire, or something. Axl went to take it off the counter. His hands carefully lifted the launcher with reverence, and the weight of it was such that his knees wobbled briefly before his autogyros compensated for the extra load. He propped it over his shoulder, took hold of the firing hilt and grinned from ear to ear.

"What's it called again?"

Palette hmphed, petulant, hands on her hips. "I _told _you, we're calling it Blast Launcher. Honestly, the way you get when we give you a new weapon, it's kinda scary! Have you even heard _anything_ I've said about it?"

Axl nodded, eyes roving up and down the length of the barrel against his shoulder, and moved his hand from the firing hilt to stroke the length of it gently. "Sure. Fires slow, can't penetrate some armors, blah blah blah. Can I go away with it now?"

Palette threw up her hands in frustration. "You guys and your guns! Whatever!"

"And can you toss me that bottle of polish over there, too?" Axl was already heading for the door.

_Can't **wait** to get you back to my room._


End file.
